


Lovely Lisa

by smallredboy



Category: Gone Girl (2014), Gone Girl - Gillian Flynn, House M.D.
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Gone Girl Fusion, Choking, Everyone Has Issues, F/M, Gone Girl Canon-Typical Behavior, Infidelity, Inspired by Gone Girl (2014), Married Couple, Mild Sexual Content, Misogyny, Missing Persons, Murder, POV Alternating, POV First Person, Slurs, Teacher-Student Relationship, Unhealthy Relationships, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-20
Updated: 2019-11-20
Packaged: 2021-02-13 14:34:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21495853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smallredboy/pseuds/smallredboy
Summary: Snapshots from an AU based offGone Girl, in which House and Cuddy's marriage is falling apart when Cuddy disappears on the morning of their fifth anniversary.
Relationships: Ali/Greg House, Greg House & James Wilson, Lisa Cuddy/Greg House, Lisa Cuddy/Lucas Douglas
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	Lovely Lisa

**Author's Note:**

> character list:  
house as nick  
cuddy as amy  
wilson as margo  
ali as andie
> 
> i also think of cameron and chase as greta and jeff and thirteen as boney, but they don't appear in these snippets.
> 
> _lovely lisa_ is, of course, the title of the book series thats an expy of amazing amy in this au.
> 
> enjoy!

"Hey, hey," I tell Ali as she clings onto my arms, whimpering, kissing at my stubble. "You have to go. James is in the other room."

"Oh-kay," Ali replies, rushing through the motions of putting her dress back on; I help her as much as I can. "Call me everyday, okay?"

"Of course," I tell her, leaning in to peck her on the lips. She tastes like her strawberry chapstick, the same one she had on that night at The Bar. My stomach flips at the memory— I haven't had that sensation for Lisa in years. 

"Everyday. Or I'll go crazy." Her eyes are so wide, and she's so desperate. And she's so  _ young _ . "I swear I'll go crazy."

"Yes," I breathe, leaning in to kiss her again. "Everyday. Go, now, go. You gotta go."

"I love you," she reminds me.

"I love you too."

And then she's gone, slithering out of the back door like a snake. Maybe she is. Ruining my marriage even more than it already was and everything.

I turn around, waiting to get some more sleep, before I see James there, his hands on his hips (that thing he does when he's furious, that thing that has gotten him called gay), brows furrowed tight. 

"Gregory," he hisses out. "You fucking idiot."

All the blood in my body turns ice cold. I try and fix my stance, my jeans, but I know it's no use. I straighten up and go up toward him. "Look, James—"

"How old is she?!"

Of course that's his first question. He has other matters to worry about, but she seems young, so he goes for the jugular. There's a lot of problems about me having an affair all while Lisa is missing, but a big one is her being my twenty one-year-old student. That makes it worse. Far, far worse. If she was a woman my age who was decidedly  _ not _ my student, perhaps it wouldn't all be so bad. Perhaps I wouldn't be a walking cliché.

"James, listen—"

"How  _ old _ is she?!"

I sigh. No point in avoiding James' moral compass. "Twenty-one."

"Twenty—" he chokes on his breath a little. "Twenty-one? How long have you been fucking her?"

"A year."

"You've been fucking her since she was twenty!" James sinks down onto the sofa, looking at me with such anger it makes him wince. "This is bad. This is  _ so _ bad. The media finds out and now you have a  _ murder motive _ for Lisa."

"I know," I reply, staring at the floor.

James stands up and starts pacing. "Do you love her?"

I look up at him, blinking. "What?"

"Do you love her?"

The question is mind-boggling. Is that really his main concern right now? If I love my fucking mistress? That should be the least of his worries when talking about my  _ mistress _ now that my wife is missing and all the pressure is being put on me.

"I don't know."

James grunts. "Don't fucking lie to me, Greg. Do you love her?"

I stare at my own hands. They were on her chest, groping, mere hours ago. "Yes. I think so."

"God," he says. "This is so fucking bad, Greg. Where did you two meet?"

I pale. 

"Where did you meet her?"

I swallow. "She's my student."

"God fucking  _ dammit _ ," James exclaims, anger taking over him once again.. "She's your  _ student _ . When this comes out— not if,  _ when _ , you're literally on your way to death row, you know that?"

"I know." My head hurts; I'm a little dizzy. I want to sleep more. "I think I've been on my way to death row since the day of."

James sits down next to me. "You have."

We've always had these three words, which we didn't realize was viewed as  _ weird _ by everyone else until we grew up and someone sneered and called us faggots. We're just two unrelated men who are close to each other, but that's enough. When the media gets a hold on it, I'm dead meat. 'Bisexual' husband of missing Lisa Cuddy in an affair with his best friend and co-owner of The Bar, plus his own fucking student. I can see the headlines. I'd try to deny them, yes, but would it be of any use?

All that matters is that James is in my side. Hopefully.

"I love you," I tell him without thinking twice.

James smiles, even though he looks like he wants to choke me out right now. "I love you too, Greg. You should sleep some more."

* * *

Lucas has not given me any money. I am a prisoner in his stupid lake house. It's ridiculous, but I know that's what my story will be. Yes, my high school boyfriend came all the way here, kidnapped me, assaulted me, and I killed him to escape. 

I know Greg wants me back. Sure, perhaps to kill me, perhaps to beat me, because he can tell what I have done to him, how he is oh-so-close to getting the injection, but that doesn't matter. I'll trap him up, I'll sweet-talk him, I'll get my way and he will be  _ done _ with. He will have to admit I did not frame him. That he spent so much money on ridiculous things. He will do what he said he'd do in his bit with Stacy Warner— he will spend the rest of his life making it up to me.

At first it will be pretend, yes. It will all be playing house for a while. But he'll warm up to me again.

I grab a wine bottle that's been sitting comfortably on one of the counters. I abuse myself with it. I keep the cut of the ties around my wrists, around my ankles. I am a textbook rape and abduction victim. No one will doubt me.

"Lucas," I start the night of, leaning in to kiss his cheek. "I want you. I think I'm ready."

Lucas  _ glows _ at that, at that fake admission. He's pathetic.

"Of course, Lisa. I'll give you anything you want. Just don't rush yourself."

I cry a little when he enters me. I can tell he wants me to. He's always liked his girls damaged; that's why I told him about my dad molesting me, even though it was not true. He likes to fix things. And women, of course, are things to him.

He comes inside me, embarrassingly fast. I want to tease him, but he slumps down on top of me, so I can't precisely do it. He is already dozing off when I grab the knife from beneath my pillow and slash his throat clean.

He  _ bleeds _ . I know blood, but the amount of blood is still astonishing. I'm covered in blood; God, I look straight up a terrible exploitation film. I pull him off me, his body already limping up, going cold. I'm still wearing my little nightgown.

Oh, it's almost out of a movie. The images of my hands searching for Nick will go viral.

I grab his car keys, a little lightheaded with joy. 

I have killed Lucas Douglas. Life is a little simpler now.

I can now work on getting my husband to love me once again.

He's already quite close to it.

* * *

"Greg," Lisa sobs out as she stumbles towards my front door.

The car looks fancy. Where did she get it? Where is she coming from? What sticky cobweb of lies has she fabricated for her own safety this time around? What has she done?

If the cameras weren't at us right now, I would kill her. I would grab her and slam her into the concrete, carry out all the violent fantasies I know by the book of my brain by now. I have seen in my mind's eye how I would murder her, every excruciating detail. I'd get the death sentence then, but I wouldn't fucking care. 

But the cameras are flashing, everything melting into white light, and Lisa's dress is covered in blood. Who did she kill? Will she kill me next?

I want to grab her by her badly cut hair, throw her onto the ground, my hands shaking from fury. But the cameras are here, so I return her call, like we are animals looking for a mate.

"Lisa! Lisa, oh my god! Oh my god! My love!"

She slumps into my arms, and I bury my face on her shoulder, hugging her hard. I let the cameras have their fifteen seconds, before I lean in and whisper deep into her ear, "You fucking bitch."

She shudders; I can tell. Before I can confront her, before I can kill her (because I want to, I want to kill her), I bring her inside, as much as the cameras and the public scream for us.

_ Lisa! Lisa! Lisa! Lisa! _ Someone even throws a pebble to the window; it doesn't break.

I look at her, and I hiss out,  _ "What did you do?" _

Her innocent look almost makes me want to believe anything she says. But I have to repeat in my head, again and again,  _ she is a murderer. She was framing you. Do not trust anything she says. _

* * *

"Just like your dad," I tell him, my eyes wide, staring up at him. He's shaking. "We're all bitches in the end, aren't we, Gregory? Dumb bitch, psycho bitch. There's not much difference."

He grabs me by the arm, digging his fingers into it. 

"I'm the bitch who makes you better, Greg."

He's trying so hard not to crack, to not try and kill me. He is silent. It's a good look on him. 

I smile at him, a wolfish grin that I know only makes him want to kill me harder. His murderous intent is obvious in every one of his movements, or lack thereof, the way his baby blue eyes are wide and burning with a seeping hatred, the kind that stays in your skin forever..

"I'm the  _ bitch _ that makes you a man."

That's what makes him break.

I go tumbling down the floor as he chokes me; hard, my pulse shooting up against his fingers, and I'm breathing, and I'm  _ squawking _ , and I sound like a dying animal. Among the brink of death, all I can think about is that I sound pathetic as I'm dying.  _ What a Lisa thing to think, _ he would say if I ever voiced this out loud.

I keep staring at him. There's only a few inches between us, his hands choking me out, or trying to. He's shaking, he's struggling not to just snap my neck. I didn't even realize, but I'm scratching as his wrists, desperate. Perhaps he will get what he wants. Well, it'll get him the death sentence.

Our eyes are burning into each other, mocha brown into ice blue. They've never been quite like glaciers until now.

And then he pulls away, like he's been burned by my throat, recoiling aggressively.

I can see the realization in his eyes.

"Who will you be without me, Greg?" I echo his thoughts.

I see him grimace. 

I haven't checked myself out in a mirror yet, but I know there are marks, his hands pressed against my windpipe, trying and trying to kill me. But that doesn't fit the image we are trying to portray, the image we  _ will _ be.

I'll put some make-up on it, make it look like there was no struggle, no attempted murder.

It'll be grand.


End file.
